Tess’s own daily schedule was equally packed. Although she’d managed to delegate some of her administrative duties at school, weekdays still teemed with meetings and paperwork. As of that spring, she had regular physical therapy appointments for her knee too. The time those appointments took still rankled her, but even she had to admit it: They helped. A lot.
To his credit, Lucas hadn’t pushed her, and he didn’t sayI told you so. Instead, he helped her with the exercises, accompanied her to the doctor when he could, and incessantly discussed which new sexual positions a healthier knee would make possible. Which was the best possible motivation for continuing her appointments, something he definitely understood.
For a European playboy bro, he was awfully clever. Which was one of many reasons they’d moved in together just over a year ago.
Two weeks later, she’d earned her new title at work.
Cressida had delayed her retirement as long as possible. But last August, Tess had officially become principal of Marysburg High.
Her dream. For a long time, her only one.
Not anymore.
“The sandbar it is.” Lucas took her racket and tucked it under his arm. “Why don’t I return everything to the clubhouse while you rest for a minute?”
Lifting her damp hand, he flattened her palm against his cheek and nuzzled his bristles against her tender skin until she shivered at the prickle.
“Am I going to need the rest?” she asked, her voice husky.
His teeth sank into that soft swell of flesh just below her thumb. Not enough to break the skin. Just enough to excite her.
At her gasp, he smiled slowly. “Yes.”
* * *
“Why areyou bringing your tote bag?” Lucas removed it from her shoulder and swung it over his as they walked to the beach. “I’ve got the towels, I put the room key in my swim trunks, and you don’t need sunscreen at night.”
She didn’t break stride. “I wanted to bring something…special. You’ll see.”
“Ah. Idosee.” He sped up, just a little. “Naughty, naughty, Principal Dunn.”
She wasn’t even nervous. Why wasn’t she nervous?
Within minutes, they’d arrived at their destination. The adults-only tip of the island, where the shush of the waves mingled with the flutter of a breeze through palm fronds.
In this spot, it was almost completely dark. Private.
Perfect.
Only feet away, the water lapped at the shore. And just beyond the point where that water seemed too deep, past the few fraught feet where she’d struggle to keep her head above surface, the sandbar waited for them.
This time, she knew Lucas would ease her through the frightening moments when her toes no longer touched bottom. He’d support her so she didn’t need to worry. Hold her hand as she forged ahead.
Inevitably, the sand would rise again to meet her. Then they’d sit hip to hip, swaying in the gentle, unceasing advance and retreat of the ocean. They’d let the silky sand dissolve through their fingers and swirl their hands through the warm, buoyant water.
They’d be. Just be. Together.
Paradise. But no more so than the house they now shared, their daily lives full of meetings and frustrations and laughter and the look on Lucas’s face each and every time she came home.
Lit from within. Incandescent with love.
So no, she wasn’t nervous. She was as buoyant as that swirling water.
She couldn’t wait for the sandbar. She couldn’t wait another moment.
When she fell to one knee in the damp sand, Lucas swore and dropped everything. “Tess, are you okay? Did you twist your knee? Because I can call for—”
He was crouching down, his hands grasping her shoulders, his brow creased with worry as he frantically scanned her for injuries.
